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Entry tags:
Challenge 040
Story title: Allegro Appassionata
Author: Ingvild
Word count: 471
Rating and warnings: Safe for everyone
Characters and/or pairing: Dorothy
Summary: Dorothy reflects on directing the mobile dolls as well as her philosophy of life.
It’s a little like directing a symphony, Dorothy thinks. All of the mobile dolls are performing at her command. She thrusts out a hand there, and one wing of dolls do a turn and return to the middle of the fray. She shakes her other hand, and another wing of dolls spread out, avoiding an attack from one of the Gundams.
She doesn’t actually need to use gestures, but she finds it amusing to do so, and so she does. She sees the entire picture, and she directs it exactly the way she wants it.
In school, when she was thirteen and had to be part of the school orchestra because this was a posh school and all the students were expected to take part of something cultural, she had rather hated following the direction of the conductor. What did she care if she was going a bit fast? Why should she care that her bassoon was too loud? She didn’t care that the strings, who were getting rather tired from sixty bars of tremolo in pianissimo, were throwing her dirty looks when they had to go from the top again. It’s their own fault for picking an instrument that is playing more or less the whole time.
The conductor, noticing that she wasn’t having an easy time playing with others, pulled her aside and showed her the score for the piece they were playing. He gave her a CD with a recording of the piece, and told her to listen to it, and try to pick out all the individual parts before listening to the whole.
After hours of listening and staring at the score in frustration, Dorothy gave up and accepted that perhaps, as only one musician in the orchestra, she might need to blend better with the others. She also realised that maybe being a bassoonist wasn’t her call, and when she handed the score back, she asked the conductor if he would instruct her in conducting.
She has found that she vastly prefers moving other people around to being moved. This has become the one thing that is a constant in her life. She has her own tune, and she makes others move to it.
A sudden fluctuation in the battle makes her frown underneath her Zero helmet. Something has changed. Someone else is playing.
She is reminded of a symphony she listened to once, where two kits of timpani played against one another in a duel. Duelling kettledrums, both somehow fitting in with the music of the others. This battle reminds her of it – they are fighting, but still, somehow, fitting into one another’s patterns.
And the sound, the feel of it, tells her who it is.
Come on, Quatre Raberba Winner. Let’s see who will direct this symphony when we come to the last movement.
A/N: The symphony Dorothy references is Carl Nielsen’s Fourth Symphony (the Inextinguishable), written during the First World War.
Author: Ingvild
Word count: 471
Rating and warnings: Safe for everyone
Characters and/or pairing: Dorothy
Summary: Dorothy reflects on directing the mobile dolls as well as her philosophy of life.
It’s a little like directing a symphony, Dorothy thinks. All of the mobile dolls are performing at her command. She thrusts out a hand there, and one wing of dolls do a turn and return to the middle of the fray. She shakes her other hand, and another wing of dolls spread out, avoiding an attack from one of the Gundams.
She doesn’t actually need to use gestures, but she finds it amusing to do so, and so she does. She sees the entire picture, and she directs it exactly the way she wants it.
In school, when she was thirteen and had to be part of the school orchestra because this was a posh school and all the students were expected to take part of something cultural, she had rather hated following the direction of the conductor. What did she care if she was going a bit fast? Why should she care that her bassoon was too loud? She didn’t care that the strings, who were getting rather tired from sixty bars of tremolo in pianissimo, were throwing her dirty looks when they had to go from the top again. It’s their own fault for picking an instrument that is playing more or less the whole time.
The conductor, noticing that she wasn’t having an easy time playing with others, pulled her aside and showed her the score for the piece they were playing. He gave her a CD with a recording of the piece, and told her to listen to it, and try to pick out all the individual parts before listening to the whole.
After hours of listening and staring at the score in frustration, Dorothy gave up and accepted that perhaps, as only one musician in the orchestra, she might need to blend better with the others. She also realised that maybe being a bassoonist wasn’t her call, and when she handed the score back, she asked the conductor if he would instruct her in conducting.
She has found that she vastly prefers moving other people around to being moved. This has become the one thing that is a constant in her life. She has her own tune, and she makes others move to it.
A sudden fluctuation in the battle makes her frown underneath her Zero helmet. Something has changed. Someone else is playing.
She is reminded of a symphony she listened to once, where two kits of timpani played against one another in a duel. Duelling kettledrums, both somehow fitting in with the music of the others. This battle reminds her of it – they are fighting, but still, somehow, fitting into one another’s patterns.
And the sound, the feel of it, tells her who it is.
Come on, Quatre Raberba Winner. Let’s see who will direct this symphony when we come to the last movement.
A/N: The symphony Dorothy references is Carl Nielsen’s Fourth Symphony (the Inextinguishable), written during the First World War.